0200 Hours
by Orangeblossom
Summary: After The Measure of a Man, Picard is deeply affected by the sight of Tasha Yar's hologram -- and finds himself confiding his thoughts to Data.


0200 Hours

Exhausted, Jean-Luc Picard walked into his quarters and immediately dimmed the lights.

He had argued for Lieutenant Commander Data's very life in front of a Judge Advocate General Officer who had every reason to show him no mercy and he had won. He'd just left the party celebrating Data's triumphant return to the _Enterprise_ and he'd even managed to get a dinner date out of the passionate yet cool-as-steel JAG Officer, Phillipa Louvois, and afterwards she had definitely seemed interested in the possibility of rekindling what used to burn so bright between them. It was 0200 hours and he should have happily gone to bed and slept the sleep of a man who'd given absolutely everything he'd had in defense of something he believed in.

Instead, Picard walked slowly to a viewport and leaned a fist against it as he stared at the stars, welcoming the chill of space against the flesh of his hand. Maybe that unimaginable cold could freeze his heart; it didn't seem as if anything else could.

Because it wasn't Data's trust in him, or Phillipa's hinted promises, that filled his mind. It was one remark Data had made that in the course of Picard's courtroom argument had come and gone, but which now haunted him, reminding him of all the lost chances he'd ever regretted, all the dear friends now dead, all the love that could have been his for the asking but he'd never asked.

He looked out at the stars, but he saw the face of the _Enterprise_'s former security chief, Tasha Yar. She smiled at him through her tears, a genuine grin she had rarely shared with him making her eyes shine and her cheeks flush with color. She shook her head at him and her short blond hair glowed like morning sunlight as she said, half-teasing, half-serious, "Oh, if you _weren't_ the captain…!"

He closed his eyes against the memory but saw again the small hologram of Tasha, kept safe by an android with a discomfited face who had hesitantly confessed under oath that he and Tasha had been "intimate."

What a world of speculation in that one word! Intimate! When? How? Why? How long?

Picard pounded his fist against the viewport, then brought the fist to his mouth, gnawing at a knuckle as if the pain could erase the—jealousy? Now? For what Data and Tasha had had? For what he hadn't had the sense to take when she had offered it to him?

The door buzzer sounded.

"Not now," Picard said under his breath, but straightened and tugged at his uniform before he turned to face the door. "Come!"

The door slid open to reveal Lieutenant Commander Data silhouetted against the bright light of the corridor. "Captain. Am I disturbing you?" he asked.

"What is it, Data?" Picard asked, not quite answering the android's question. "Come in."

Data stepped inside and let the doors close behind him. Picard gestured to the living area and they seated themselves.

"Sometimes, sentiments are not conveyed properly in a public forum," Data began. "I wished to thank you, personally and sincerely, for your defense of me today."

Picard smiled, glad this was all the android's visit was about. "You must know it was no more than you deserved, Data. I'm glad I was of some help."

The android went on, "I did not realize, until I thought I had to leave, how much my time aboard the _Enterprise_ has meant to me. I have served aboard other ships, but taking leave of each has always been a very simple matter."

_Is he going to confess to feeling emotion?_ Picard wondered idly, covertly studying the android as if he were seeing him for the first time. _Did those eyes __see…those__ hands touch…?_

"It is with the _Enterprise_ crew that I first experienced acceptance," Data said. "And with that acceptance, of who and what I am, came a new freedom to experiment, to discover for myself what you take for granted—what it means to be Human."

"I believe," Picard said, able to abstract himself from his musings to play the role Data expected him to, "that with each of your 'experiments' in humanity, we all have come to a new appreciation of what being Human means."

Data seemed struck by the idea. "I have never considered my own learning process as serving that function for someone else."

"For instance, Lieutenant Yar," Picard found himself saying calmly, "must have been the most accepting of all…" He let the thought trail away, chastising himself for trying to bait the android, for trying to find out something that was absolutely none of his business.

But Data didn't seem to think Picard was prying. The android's pale brows drew together as he seriously considered Picard's words, then he said, "You are correct. It was her acceptance of me for who and what I am that led to our…intimacy."

Picard ventured before he could stop himself, "You mean that you and Lieutenant Yar were lovers, that you made love together."

"Yes. That is what I meant," Data agreed, and Picard felt a wash of emotions—embarrassment, anger, jealousy foremost amongst them—try to overwhelm him as the android confirmed exactly what the euphemism "intimate" meant, but he clenched a hand and willed the emotions to silence.

The android went on, "But even as I learned the difference between simply applying my sexual programming and 'making love,' she was learning as well that the sexual act need not be violent, or cause her pain—"

Picard managed a thin smile. "Mr. Data. The android who teaches Humans about love."

"Not 'love,' Captain," Data corrected. "I cannot feel emotion, therefore I have no experience with love. However, I could be what she asked me to be, a gentle lover."

"Which in turn led you to consider her as 'special,'" the captain pointed out, not able to help himself, wanting to dig deeper into this part of his second officer's life, the part that might have been his own.

Data shifted slightly in his chair. "Her request…enabled me to…become aware of subtleties in my programming of which I previously had no knowledge," he explained slowly.

Picard sighed in exasperation. "Come come, Data, let's be perfectly honest here!" He gestured to the room around them. "It's just you and me, no one else. Your position not just on this ship but in the grand scheme of things is secure. You are free, as you said, to experiment, to try to experience being Human. Will you always be so stubborn as not to examine those instances where there is the possibility that you are, in fact, experiencing what it means to be Human?"

Data tilted his head, and Picard knew that it wasn't just a mannerism, but that the android was genuinely puzzled. So was Picard.

"Captain—"

Picard shook his head. "I apologize, Data. It isn't my place to say such things to you."

"You are simply speaking to me as one friend would to another, frankly, without reserve. I do appreciate that."

Picard struggled with admitting what was behind his needling of Data, even though he had satisfactorily explained circumstances for himself and had made Picard out to be altogether unselfish.

But the android continued his train of thought. "I have not had the chance to analyze what happened between Lieutenant Yar and myself in any great detail. I believe it is time I did so. As you have pointed out, there are many unresolved aspects to it."

"Data," Picard tried, "you know that sometimes, when Humans are under some kind of stress, their emotions become heightened." The android nodded. "Today was just such a time. We had the trial, at the trial I was reminded again of Lieutenant Yar, it's very late and—"

"Then, it is for me to apologize to you, Captain," Data interrupted. "Lieutenant Yar's death was sudden and affected the whole crew deeply. If the sight of the hologram of her—"

"I—relived her death, yes, but more than that I remembered _her_." He couldn't help a smile as the memories came back in a rush. "Her fire. Her laughter. Her fearlessness and woe betide the person who underestimated her—" He saw Data nod as he remembered, too. "—the way she'd smile if she was actually serious—"

"The way she would smile if she was teasing you," Data added.

"—the way she smiled if she'd been crying—" Picard stopped. He suddenly found himself where his problems had started, with what he'd been thinking about just before Data had walked in.

"You saw Lieutenant Yar cry?" Data asked, curious.

"I saw Lieutenant—I saw Tasha cry. Only once." Picard wondered if he should go on, explain everything. But to what purpose? What exactly did he want from Data?

"I believe—Tasha," and Data echoed Picard's use of her first name, "was special to us both."

"Yes. But you were more special to her than I."

As soon as Picard said it, he wished it unsaid, never thought, wished he had sent Data away instead of inviting him in because there it was, so plain neither of them could ignore it. And Picard had never seen the mixture of bewilderment and, yes, pain, that he saw now on Data's face.

"Sir?" the android asked faintly.

Picard fought the urge to look away and instead held Data's gaze steadily. "That was—jealousy, a Human emotion I hope you never experience because it's one of the ugliest."

Data's eyes became abstracted as he absorbed this information and Picard plunged ahead, wanting to distract the android. "Do you remember when Q offered Commander Riker special powers and Tasha was sent back to the ship because Q had put her in a penalty box?"

"Yes."

"She was so frustrated at her inability to fight or to help that she started to cry. I—said something kind to comfort her and she smiled at me and—suggested that if I hadn't been the captain, we—might have had a relationship. And now she's gone, and I never dared to cross that line with her, although she made the offer. And I regret what might have been."

Picard looked down at his hands, feeling drained by his confession. But innate honesty forced him to add, "I'm jealous of you, Data, because you _did_ dare, and have nothing to regret." He said more softly, "Nothing at all."

The android was silent. Finally, he said, "Captain, Tasha and I did not have an ongoing relationship."

Picard looked up abruptly. "You didn't—"

"When the crew became infected with the virus-like infection from the _Tsiolkovsky_, Tasha and I made love. When the antidote was administered, she did not wish to continue that form of interaction with me."

_Then it's even worse,_ Picard thought. Out loud he said, "Then at the time of the incident with Q, you and she weren't—and there's no reason for me to feel jealousy towards you at all, you didn't 'take her away' from me, I was just a damned fool."

"Captain, she is dead," Data said reasonably. "Such regret as you feel is in vain, since there is nothing you can do with respect to her now."

All his defenses down, Picard said quietly, "The fact remains, Data, that _you_ were her gentle lover. You touched her, and held her and _saw_ her as I never did. And I _am_ bitterly jealous, and because of that I tried to hurt you with what I said."

"But it is because of your acceptance of me that you feel jealousy," Data said, his voice mild. "You consider me a threat. This would not be so if you dismissed me, my feelings for Tasha or her feelings for me."

Picard leaned forward and lashed out, "Data, you keep putting a positive spin on things and I want you for one moment to understand that I tried to _hurt_ you! That I wanted very much to hurt you!"

Data sat rigid and still. "Why did you wish to do such a thing? And why do you wish me to understand your attempted actions?"

"Because…this too is what it means to be Human." He heaved a sigh, his anger gone as quickly as it had appeared. "To be irrational, to feel dark, angry emotions, to want to hurt someone else just because you are hurting. You should be fully aware of what we Humans are capable of."

"If Tasha were alive now, what would you do?" Data asked suddenly.

Picard hesitated. "Had I continued to believe the two of you had an ongoing relationship, I would not try to come between you. I would regret, and I would concede to the better man and go on. If I knew she were free—I don't know."

"But—"

"You do not know me, Data. How much there is for me to regret. How many relationships I have allowed not to happen." He looked at the android and was struck with how open and accepting his expression was. _Was that what Tasha saw when she looked at him?_ he found himself musing as he responded to that openness with more honesty than he had ever shown anyone. "I am a very lonely man, Data, and it is my own doing. Ask me to risk anything else. Anything but my heart."

"I am sorry," Data said softly.

"So am I." Picard had the nervous need to move and he arose, making the excuse, "I need a drink."

"I believe it would be appropriate for me to join you," Data replied, rising also.

Picard raised his eyebrows in surprise, but walked to the replicator and keyed in a code. Two glasses of dark amber liquid appeared, and Picard turned and handed one to the android, warning, "This isn't synthehol; it's the real thing."

"I understand." Data raised his glass slightly and offered, "To Tasha Yar." Picard raised his glass in answer, and they both took a small sip.

The liquid burned a slow path down Picard's throat until it settled, bitter and warm, in his stomach, and he realized that the toast smacked too much of regret. He raised his glass again, placing his hand on the android's shoulder. "To you, Data, who has proven that the true measure of a man is not that he loves, but how much he is willing to dare for love."

Picard knocked back the rest of his drink. When he looked at Data, the android was staring at him with flat gold eyes, his drink unfinished. "I am not sure I understand."

"I'm not sure I do, either." Picard tightened his grip on Data's shoulder. "But I want you to know that I bear you no ill will. I know we are not rivals. We have both lost a good friend, and I discovered today that I'm still mourning her."

Data slowly raised his glass, acknowledging the captain's toast, and drained it.

"You have given me much to think about. But what has been said here, will not leave this room, Captain."

"You are the very soul of discretion, Data. Thank you."

Data handed his glass to Picard. "Good night, sir."

"Good night, Data."

Picard watched as the android left his quarters, then he punched up one more drink and carried it to the viewport. He took a sip and stared out at the stars for a long time, until his eyes felt like they were burning and he had to close them.

_Would I change anything?_ he asked himself. _What if I had answered Tasha, "I'm not always the captain. Sometimes, I'm just Jean-Luc"?_

But hadn't he in essence told Data that very thing tonight? That he wasn't perfect, steely, unapproachable, but was in all ways Human? And that had created a bond between the two men that hadn't existed before.

Picard opened his eyes and took another sip of his drink. He should get some sleep. He was so tired.

* * *

Data went to his quarters and finally started unpacking his kit. He took out his volume of Shakespeare and his medals, and then the small crystal hologram stand. He set the stand down on his desk and activated it.

A miniature Tasha Yar smiled at him.

The android looked at her solemnly. He accessed every interaction with her from the moment they had met to when she had bid him goodbye in her message on the holodeck, and he wondered.

FIN


End file.
